


Avec Mes Souvenirs

by DoubleNegative



Series: The Beehive: 221Bs [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Apologies, Edith Piaf - Freeform, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Reichenbach, Post-Season/Series 03, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:45:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3449360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleNegative/pseuds/DoubleNegative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, someone else can say it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Avec Mes Souvenirs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AtlinMerrick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtlinMerrick/gifts).



It began with "La Vie en Rose" finding its way into every impromptu violin performance, sometimes the whole song, sometimes a few bars slipped in at random. Then one day John returned to find the detritus on the table shoved aside to accommodate a stack of records and "La Vie, L'amour," jangling and scratchy, spilling from the speakers.

Sherlock stood by the window, still and silent, face unreadable. He turned as John crossed the room to inspect the records, took a breath as the music changed and Edith Piaf’s voice swelled to fill the room.

_Non, rien de rien,_

_Non, je ne regrette rien._

Sherlock crossed the room and held out his hand, eyes cautious and questioning. John took it, curious, and Sherlock pulled him closer to rest one hand on his waist. John let his own free hand drift to Sherlock’s shoulder: solid, warm, present, _alive_.

_Non, je ne regrette rien_

_C’est payé, balayé, oublié…_

They swayed before the fireplace, moving with deliberate care, drawing gradually closer, until John felt Sherlock’s heartbeat reverberating in his own chest, until realization dawned.

Sherlock bent his head until his lips brushed John’s ear and translated the final verse in a halting, hesitant whisper that said more than the words themselves.

“No, I regret nothing.

Because my life, my joy,

today with you begins.”

**Author's Note:**

> I admit, the premise of this fic is a little bit self-indulgent: I grew up hearing Edith Piaf at my French(-Canadian) grandparents' house, and "Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien" is particularly close to my heart. Still, I don't think it's too much of a stretch to believe that Sherlock might have grown up with the same music in the background--Conan Doyle gives him a French grandmother, after all. And I think both he and John could find a bit of themselves in this particular song.
> 
> You can listen to the song--from which I took the title and all the quoted bits--[right here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRCYEkA0_q8/). (This particular video includes the original French lyrics and an English translation.) 
> 
> I wrote this with AtlinMerrick in mind, as a small thanks for the kindness she's showered on my fics' comments lately. I couldn't see all that and not write _something_.


End file.
